The Ties That Bind
by Fly Raven. Fly
Summary: A collection of one-shots and drabbles surrounding our favorite characters. Angst. Fluff. Humor. Slash. Everything under the sun.
1. Chapter 1

**My first Sons of Anarchy! So, this is going to be a long list of one-shots, some connecting, and some not. I'm gonna say right now; for the most part it will be Chibs/Juice centric, either just friendship or slash. Just as a warning. But there'll be a considerable number of the members of the club thrown in also. **

**I don't know how often I'll update. Could be a couple times a week, could be once every couple of weeks. But considering how badly SOA has me hooked, I'm convinced it will be more often than not. **

**Some are more like drabbles and some are already wannabe full-length stories—nearing ten thousand words. We'll start off with a shorter one. I have no beta-reader, so all mistakes are my own. And any prompts for chapters, I'll gladly take into consideration. **

**Well, I hope you enjoy, and leave a review if you really want to.** **I'd sure appreciate it if you did.** **Just a suggestion.**

**Disclaimer: Any recognizable characters do not belong to me, nor does Sons of Anarchy. **

"Hey, Juicy boy!"

Juice swore, shoving his cell in his jeans pocket. He turned quickly and folded his arms, shoving his shaking hands in his armpits. Juice cocked his head and tried his best to look curious, pasting on an equally dopey grin at Chibs.

The other man didn't look convinced—not completely. He looked a bit concerned as he had most of the time Juice had been around him lately. Juice relaxed his shoulders, resisting the urge to swallow as thickly as he wanted to. Chibs would notice. Chibs always noticed. Except when it mattered.

Chibs laid a hand on Juice's shoulder, the warmth seeping through his cut and made Juice feel marginally more relaxed, even as he felt his stomach tighten. "Alright, there?"

"Yeah," Juice nodded, making himself frown in confusion. He jerked his chin towards the other bikes riding in to Teller-Morrow's. "What's with that?"

Chibs didn't look away immediately, instead stood there gazing at him. He wasn't wearing his sunglasses, so Juice could see his worried and disappointed eyes directly. Juice's gut twisted, but he didn't fidget and he didn't swallow. He kept his expression curious, and hoped as much as he dreaded that Chibs would move his hand.

Finally, Chibs turned his head to look behind them, watching as Alvarez climbed off his bike, walking forward to shake hands with Clay. "We're heading up to the warehouse."

Juice's breath caught, and his mind whirled franticly, thinking of that fucking brick hidden in the brush. He had to get it out of there. They'd notice. Maybe he could ride up there sooner—

But no. 'Cause now Jax was gesturing and calling for them to all head out, and Juice could feel the slick ball of dread at the bottom of his stomach.

"Juice," Chibs' voice was soft, and his eyes whipped up to meet the other man's blue ones, even as he wiped his face from anything he was feeling. "Everything okay?"

Juice blinked and nodded, smiling even as he screamed on the inside, desperate to just get out of there, and hating himself for making Chibs look like that when Juice didn't deserve his concern. The last thing he deserved was Chibs, and Chibs' concern.

"Yeah. Let's go on up then."

Juice saw something creep into the other man's eyes that he couldn't identify, but it made him feel uneasy. "Yeah, let's go on." He urged Juice forward, and much to Juice's consternation and pleasure, he didn't drop his hand, instead winding it around Juice's shoulders as he let himself be led to their bikes.

Juice let himself lean into Chibs slightly, feeling overwhelmed and conflicted. He swallowed, and glanced up slightly at Chibs. The other man was looking forward, his brow furrowed slightly. Juice saw his lips purse, and he reached up to slide his sunglasses down his nose, covering his gaze from Juice's view. Juice frowned, and he felt Chibs' arm tighten around his shoulder, pulling him closer to the other man.

Chibs' arm moved away finally, and the other man walked away to talk quietly with Bobby, casting Juice a glance every now and then. Juice lifted his helmet, taking as long as possible, thinking that maybe if he were the last one, falling behind just a little, he could think of a way to cover up the brick.

That plan went down the drain as Chibs walked over to his own bike, and started it. He tilted his head in question and swept an arm out for Juice to go on ahead.

Juice swallowed down a sigh, climbing on his own bike and pulling in front of Chibs. He felt trepidation creep in his veins, leaving him jittery and anxious as he had been lately. He heard Chibs come up behind him on his own bike, and Juice bit his lip, tightening his grip, feeling guilt claw at him.

He shook his head, clearing it, pushing it away. Don't think about it, he told himself. Don't think about it, don't think about anything and you'll be fine. Focus on the brick. Don't think of parentage. Don't think of the club. Don't think of Chibs. Don't think of Roosevelt. Just focus on now. Just now.

He did as he told himself, pulling his walls around him and blocking off everything he so desperately wanted to feel—he'd push that away for later when he lie awake, staring at his ceiling and the self-loathing coating his throat as every fiber in his being taunted him for being a coward and a traitor.

But for now, he wouldn't feel anything. He wouldn't think about anything but getting that brick back to where it needed to be. Chibs pulled up beside him, and from the corner of his eye, Juice could see the other man's face turned toward him. Juice didn't look back.

They drove up to the warehouse, and Juice's only relief was that things couldn't possibly get any worse than they already were.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Any recognizable characters do not belong to me, nor does Sons of Anarchy.**

Tommy woke quickly, sleepy eyes shooting open just as the first rumble of thunder shook the entire house. He noticed that his room was completely dark, and his eyes shot to the other side for the room where his power ranger's night-light flickered and turned off. He felt his breath speed up, and he licked his lips, shooting up in his bed quickly, twisting his small hands in his blanket.

He pulled his blanket around his shoulders, and his room lit up suddenly by lightning, followed again by a loud crack of thunder. His head jerked around when the branches outside of his window hit the glass, dragging across the window and creating a loud screechy noise that made Tommy's tummy turn.

He wiggled to the edge of his bed slowly, pulling his blanket with him. He crept up on his knees and pulling his stuffed rabbit close to him, digging his small fingers in the soft fur.

He peeked over the edge of his bed cautiously and saw the dark gap where his under-the-bed was. He bit his lip and glanced at his bedroom door where it was on the way other side of his room. Maybe he should just stay in his room. He didn't want to get off the bed in the darkness where anything could grab him.

But he _really _didn't like storms.

Just as he thought that, the branches hit his window even harder, whacking loudly and making Jax jump. His stomach jittered and he stood on the edge of his bed, barely even letting his toes peek over the side.

He took a deep breath, gripping his rabbit, and tried to jump as far away from the bed as he could. Tommy landed with a little squeak, tripping over his feet and getting tangled in his blanket and falling on his side. He stood up quickly and rushed to his door. He glanced back suspiciously, but didn't see anything creep out from under his bed or his closet.

Best not to push it, he decided and turned to face his door quickly.

He reached up for his door knob, jumping a little bit as he tried to open it. The wind howled really loudly, and Tommy whimpered, trying to stop himself from crying. Big boys didn't cry just 'cause of thunder storms. It didn't work as the wind blew even harder outside, and Tommy's eyes filled in frustration because he was just too _little _and couldn't open his door.

He needed his brother really, really bad. With one last shove, he pushed his door open, and without even thinking about it, hurried to Jax's room.

Tommy didn't even know he could run that fast, he was through his brother's door and at Jax's bed so quickly. He climbed up on to his brother's bed with his free hand and poked him in the shoulder urgently. "Jax," he whispered. "Jackie, wake up."

His brother opened one eye and frowned sleepily. "Wha' ya wan', Thomas? Why you cryin'?"

Tommy rubbed his face as his brother lifted his head from where it was buried in his pillow. "My nightlight turned off and the branches kept hitting my window and the thunder is really _really _loud. Can I sleep with you?"

His brother sighed and rolled over onto his side, giving Tommy room to climb under the covers. His brother hissed. "Jeesh, Thomas, your feet are cold," he complained.

"Sorry, Jackie," Tommy whispered without moving his feet away and cuddling in to his brothers' pillow.

Jax grumbled but shoved his face back into his side of the pillow. "Got Babs?" he asked, his voice muffled by his pillow and sleep.

"Uh huh," Tommy nodded, lifting his rabbit to show Jax. "Got 'im."

"Got your blanket? I don' wanna share mine; you steal the covers."

Tommy scowled but nodded, and spread out his blanket so it covered both of them.

"'Kay. Go to sleep now, Tommy. I got ya."

Tommy closed his eyes and did as his brother said, pulling Babs closer to his chest. He felt Jax wind his cold feet in one of the blankets, and a moment later Jax's skinny arm was thrown over his back, and he felt Jax kiss the top of his head.

Tommy drifted off, forgetting about the scary storm, and slept peacefully next to his big brother.

**I have no clue where this little thing came from. But here—have some little Teller brothers. **

**I'm thinking I'm going to try and upload daily—but don't hold me to that. Expect cautiously. But it's not set in stone, just something I may be able to do now that we're home for the holidays and I have more time on my hands. **

**And thanks much to xLila Rosa, first—and so far, only—reviewer. Another of your Juicy is coming up soon. **

**Reviews are appreciated as much as they are loved. In fact, they are fawned over and adored. It's quite depressing, really. **


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: Any recognizable characters do not belong to me, nor does Sons of Anarchy. **

He sighed and leaned back against the wooden door, closing his eyes and rolling his stiff neck. He winced slightly as it pulled, and he reached up a hand to rub it.

"Long day?"

He tilted his head slowly at the quiet voice, and smiled at his wife from where she was hovering in the hallway. "Busy's more like it," he replied, holding out a hand towards her.

Donna smiled, stepping forward to lace her small fingers through his. She leaned on the door next to him, lifting up her free hand to work out the kinks in his neck better than he could. Opie knew she noticed the bruising, but still said nothing about it. Instead, she stood on the tips of her toes and kissed the bruises lightly, just as he had seen her do many times to their children.

"They asleep?" she asked softly, gesturing tot e door they were leaning against.

He nodded, wrapping his arms around her and burying his face in her hair, inhaling her scent. "Yeah. I put them down for the night."

"When do you leave?"

Opie paused, frowning at the resigned tone in her voice. "In a couple of hours. I'll be back in a few days."

She laid her head on his chest. "But you can't tell me where you're going."

Not can't. Couldn't. Wouldn't. "Yeah," he said, pushing the guilt and second-guessing's aside. "I'll be fine and back in no time."

"Is everyone going?"

He nodded and ran his fingers through her short hair, pressing a kiss to it. "Everyone but Pop and the Prospect. But yeah. Jax and Kyle are going. They'll have my back."

She laughed quietly, more of a huff of air than a sound of amusement. She rubbed her nose against his kutte. "I know they will." She tilted her head back, humor momentarily clouding the worry in her warm brown eyes. "So. Piney's stuck with the newbie?"

Opie grinned, the pressure in his chest easing somewhat at the topic change. "And he's not happy about playing baby-sitter. But the kid's not that bad, he's just," he paused, searching for a word to describe the playful, somewhat oblivious prospect that's be getting his patch soon enough. "Bouncy." He finally decided and heard Donna laugh. "It's true. He's just so energetic. Drives Pop nuts. But when it comes to electronics, Juice is a genius. He's already like a brother, and I know I'd be proud to have him covering my back."

Donna lost her smile slowly, the laugh fading from her eyes as they gazed at him searchingly. "I'm surprised he isn't going with you guys, then."

Opie swallowed and resisted the urge to tell her everything. She didn't need to know. It's just complicate things. He shrugged stiffly. "We don't need him. Besides, someone's gotta watch the shop."

She hummed and didn't look convinced, but she dropped it. She understood the things she didn't know, the things he refused to tell her. Instead, she smiled, pressing herself up against him and twining her fingers at the back of his neck in his short hair. "Enough business talk; come to bed. If I won't see you for a couple of days, might as well make the most of it now."

He chuckled, ignoring the dark and slick feeling of foreboding in his gut, instead letting his wife pull him into their room. "If that's not a good idea, I don't know what is."

*.*

He gave in to the urge and checked on the kids as he was leaving. He knew they were still asleep—the sun wasn't even up yet—but something nagged at him, and he just had to see them.

Just as Opie had thought, they were both still sleeping peacefully, both sprawled out, one drooling, and the other tangled in sheets and stuffed animals.

He shook his head with a fond smile, gazing wonderingly and still surprised form time to time at how quickly they seemed to grow.

He shut the door quietly and made his way through the silent house. Jax and Kyle were already waiting out front on their bikes.

"Hey, man," Jax greeted, grinning under his shades and helmet. "You ready?"

Opie nodded, pushing away his doubts. "Yeah. Let's get it done."

Jax shook his head, glancing between Opie and Kyle. "Man, you guys are goddamn downers. Don't worry, it'll be quick and easy. You go in, do your thing, blow up the truck, and we can all get on with our merry little lives."

For the first time, Opie noticed Kyle's uncertain expression. It didn't sit well. "Yeah," Opie said hollowly, getting on his bike and shooting one last glance at the house where his wife and kids were sleeping. "Nothing to worry about."

**My head cannon on the night before Kyle ditched Opie, letting him take the fall and making Opie go to prison for five years. Nice guy, eh?**

**Reviews are loved, adored, cherished, and everything said is pored over fastidiously. **

**And any and all prompts, ideas, suggestions, whatever you may, are taken into consideration. You have a prompt? Most likely, I will write it. Come on, don't be shy. **


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: Any recognizable characters do not belong to me, nor does Sons of Anarchy. **

"Aw, shit. Really Chuckie?" Tig grimaced, shaking his head and stepping back quickly.

The other man shrugged, eyes wide. "Well what else was I supposed to do?"

Tig cast him an incredulous glance. "How about anything but that? This is pushing it, even for me; and that's sayin' something."

"I couldn't just leave it where it could be found."

"But in the damn _chili_?" Tig asked, curling his lip at the steaming pot on the stove.

"The cops didn't seem to mind."

Tig shut his eyes slowly after blinking once, and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "You didn't. Fucking A, Chuckie. Please, for the love of Buddha, God, fucking _Mother Nature _that you didn't."

Chuckie wrung his artificial fingers in his apron. "They would've found it if I acted differently, and they wanted a bowl of chili."

"So you just decided to give them a bowl. With the simmering decapitated head in it." Tig's voice was flat, and Chuckie jerked his shoulders and glanced around nervously.

"Well yeah. Pretty much."

Tig shook his head slowly, blue eyes fixed on Chuckie consideringly. "Honestly," he finally said, voice matter-of-fact. "I don't know whether to be disturbed or give you a fucking medal for thinking on your feet."

Chuckie shrugged modestly. "I get that a lot," he admitted, lifting the lid and stirring the chili.

Tig stared into the chili warily, watching the head poke up as it was churned. He stepped back quickly, huffing out a disbelieving laugh. "This may be one of the weirdest situations I've ever been in. And for Christ's sake, don't tell Gemma." Any amusement fell from his face as Chuckie looked away quickly. "Oh shit. Really?"

"She came in and looked at it, I tried to warn her," the shorter man defended. "She didn't say anything too bad considering the other officers were sitting at the bar still and eating, but I have a feeling I'm in for it later," he said morosely.

Tig rubbed the bridge of his nose once again sighing. "Just—try to get rid of the head, okay? Can you do that without making people unwittingly pull a Hannibal Lector?"

Chuckie glanced between the pot and Tig, shrugging again. "I can try. But I'm not making any promises."

Happy came in just as Tig swore, waltzing into the kitchen and sniffing loudly. He tilted his head and looked at the pot. "Smells good, Chuck. Mind if I take a bowl or two out for me and Ope?"

Tig shook his head firmly behind Happy's back, giving Chuckie a look that clearly promised torture if Chuckie even thought about it.

"Uh," the apologetic look he gave Tig made the dark haired man widen his eyes and gesture forbiddingly towards a butcher knife and back at Chuckie in a clearly violent gesticulation. The other man swallowed thickly, but gave Happy a wide grin. "Sure. Let me just—ah, you said two?"

Happy nodded, and watched as Chuckie pulled down two bowls. He looked momentarily panicked, unable to spoon any out without Happy noticing the still-obvious head, and Tig held his head in his hands.

Just as Tig was contemplating killing the both of them, Happy's cell pinged and during the time it took the man to check his text, Chuckie had spooned two full bowls and held them out to the surprised man. He nodded at Chuckie, already spooning out a bit. "Thanks, Chuck." He said, putting the spoon in his mouth, oblivious to the fascinated and disgusted expressions on the other men's faces.

His footsteps faded away as they heard Opie greet him. Tig swallowed, his face twisting and looking at the door Happy had just exited. "We don't talk about this."

Chuckie nodded wordlessly, looking at the taller man warily. Tig opened his mouth to say something else, but clearly thought better of it and closed it with a sigh and a shake of his head. He shoved his sunglasses on, and with one last bothered look at the pot on the stove, he followed Happy out of the club.

Chuckie turned back towards the stove, tilting his head as he gazed at the one in the pot. Curiously, he poked at the head to see how hard it was. He looked consideringly at the large sink, then back at the head, wondering how well SAMCRO's garbage disposal worked.

**This one scene with Chuckie—this entire damn **_**situation—**_**was perhaps one of the most grotesquely amusing scene in that entire series. And **_**that**_** is saying something. Or maybe that's just me. **

**I love Chuckie. He's not just a borderline psychotic, chronic masturbator with generally socially-unacceptable tendencies. Poor guy's just misunderstood. Maybe. **

**Thank you CarelessWhisper89, xLila Rose, and lederra for the reviews. **

**Reviews, reviews, reviews? I have no problem putting myself out there like some cheap junkie whore. If reviews were crack, I'd need my fix. Desperately. **


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: Any recognizable characters do not belong to me, nor does Sons of Anarchy. **

His eyes held contempt. That was all he could see. Juice shook his head frantically, reaching a hand out. "Please, just—just let me explain—"

"Explain? Explain what?" the other man laughed, if it could be called that. It was devoid of humor and filled with disdain. "Explain how you're a rat? Explain how you're a liar; a traitor? Explain how you used us? You killed a brother." He stepped closer; warmth no longer in his eyes whatsoever and Juice felt his stomach jerk at the disgust and the loathing he could see clearly. "You're nothing. You're less than nothing. And I'll show you just what that means."

"No, no, Chibs!" The other man's hands were on him, once holding him and comforting him, loving and warm, were now cruel and unforgiving, pushing against his chest even as Juice's own flailed out to reach for Chibs. "Please, please, Chibs—"

The other man crowded forward, knife in hand and his eyes held no remorse. Juice searched for anything—anything to hint that maybe there was something he could do, maybe he'd have another chance. But there was nothing. "You don't deserve even this," the other man said musingly, twirling the knife. "Too personal. The last thing you deserve is something so personal, intimate. After all, wasn't it all business to you? No," he put the knife away, but Juice was far from feeling relieved.

Tears filled his eyes despite himself, as he struggled with giving in and begging the man who meant so much to him to give him one last chance, to let him explain. "Please," he tried again.

Chibs shook his head, eyes never leaving Juice's. "No," he said flatly. "That's the last thing you deserve." He put his hands on Juice's chest once again, and shoved.

Juice fell back and down, jerking suddenly, the chains digging into his throat, tearing the skin and crushing his windpipe. _No. No. Not again. I can't do this again_, he thought, panicking as he struggled to breathe, as his lungs constricted and his eyes watered.

Pain. So much pain. The branch didn't break again though, and neither did his neck like he so desperately wished. He saw Chibs step up in his peripheral vision, and he tried to gasp out, but he just couldn't _breathe _and fuck it hurt, it hurt so much worse than the last time.

"P-e-assse. 'I-bss. 'I-bsss." He choked, fingers moving uselessly at the chains, and he felt his own blood drip over his numbing fingertips.

Chibs did nothing. He stood there, watching with empty eyes as Juice bled, as Juice struggled, as Juice cried and begged with what little air was left. He did nothing.

Juice felt his arms fall heavily of their own will and his vision blackened as he shook, gasping out his sorry's with the last breath he had.

Far off, he could hear Chibs one last time. And for the first time, he sounded mournful. "Aye. Me too, Juicy boy. Me too."

*.*

Juice jerked up in bed, gasping and choking down bile as he recalled the dream and the actuality of the chains around his throat. He shook, everywhere, struggling to get out of the sheets that felt too similar to the noose, and he fell out of his own bed.

He felt arms wrap around his chest, pulling him up and steady. "Shh," he heard a Scottish brogue. "C'mon Juice. Breathe for me, yeah? Juice, breathe."

Juice struggled with reality and nightmare, and was pulled around into Chibs' chest. He sobbed, and felt disgusted with himself for doing so as Chibs comforted him. Chibs was there every night since he had found Juice near the tree with the chains. Every night, comforting him and holding him, assuring Juice that he was okay that everything was okay, when nothing would be okay again.

But, just as every other night, he let himself be comforted, let himself be calmed down and held. He burrowed into Chibs, clenching his eyes shut tightly, relishing in the hands rubbing up and down his back soothingly. He relaxed into the hands that were always there for him, even as he wondered how long it would be until those hands turned around to wield Juice's own murder weapon.

**Oh, Juice. My creys. I'm dreading next season, if only for the fact that we all know Juice is going to be found out. I don't think I can handle that. **

**Here is your Juice, finally, xLila Rose! Sorry it's taken so long, but rest assured; there's more where that came from.**

**Reviews? Prompts? Insults? Constructive criticism? Plain criticism? All is welcome here. **


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: Any recognizable characters do not belong to me, nor does Sons of Anarchy. **

He didn't tell him anything.

At least Juice could feel proud about that. Though it meant nothing. The damage had been done, but as it stood; he didn't say anything else.

He told Roosevelt he wouldn't be giving him the brick, he wouldn't be giving him anything.

"Just do what the fuck you want," Juice had said tiredly after being pulled in to his office once again. "I don't care. Throw me in jail. Mark me as a rat. Tell the club. I don't care. I'm done."

The other man had leaned forward, intense and incredulous. "You go to jail and you'll be dead or worse in the first hour after being marked as a rat. The Sons will kill you."

"I don't care," Juice had said with emphasis, finally lifting his eyes to stare at Roosevelt. "Do what the fuck you want."

"What are you doing, Juice?" the man had asked quietly, changing tactics smoothly.

Juice was too tired to play games. He closed his eyes. "They're my family." He opened his eyes again, exhausted and guilt ridden. Done. "_They're _my family. Not some ghosts you decided to pull up from my past. Those people don't matter. The Sons of Anarchy are everything to me. I won't do it. They don't deserve it. I won't let you use me." He looked away, not even curious to see Roosevelt's expression.

"And what do you think? You tell them you didn't rat anymore, and they'll accept you back, patch and all without any consequences?"

Juice gave a wry smile. "No," he had said softly, not really looking at anything. "I know they won't. They're my family. I know them. So, no. No. They won't."

"And you're okay with that." It wasn't a question.

Juice had stood then, smiling down at the other man sitting on the desk. "Either way I betrayed them. I'm going to die either way. At least now I won't be bringing them down for my own sake."

With that, he had walked out with the intent of never being in that station again.

Now, Juice was making his way through the woods in the darkness, dragging the heavy chains behind him. If he were a philosophical kind of guy, he'd wax poetic about how the chains were just the physical being of the metaphorical chains that had been wrapped around him since returning to Charming.

But he wasn't particularly philosophical, so he hauled the heavy chains through the dirt with guilt clawing at his throat, leaving a greasy trail behind in his rolling stomach.

He arrived at the tree he had spent so much time around lately, sitting up on the branches for hours, thinking instead of sleeping, feeling heavier than the chains Juice now held in his hands.

He held the end of one of the chains in his hand, climbing on the first branch and pulling the rest with him. Juice paused, looking consideringly at the branch he usually sat on. Frowning, he reached a hand up to shake the branch, and saw the bark at the trunk start to crack as the branch swayed. Juice climbed higher to the thicker, sturdier branch, bypassing his usual branch for this.

He didn't want the branch to break, after all.

The other branch was thicker, and held Juice and the links of chains comfortably. Juice looped an end of the chains around the branch, pulling it tightly.

He sat there for a while. Thinking. He thought of his brothers. Not second guessing, no, but of what he had done to them after all they had done _for _him. He thought of Miles. When did he not think of Miles? No amount of Contrition prayers would forgive Juice. He thought of Jax, of Clay and the man of mayhem patch he didn't deserve. Bobby. Opie. Piney. Tig. Happy. Chibs.

Chibs. Chibs was on the forefront of his mind as much as Miles. Juice pushed it away like the traitorous coward he was. He shook his head, a sneer on his lips, twisting them as the removed his kutte, laying it on the branch next to him. He laid his hand on the reaper and shut his eyes, shaking his head, overwhelmed and sorry. He was always so fucking sorry.

"I'm sorry," Juice whispered. For the club, for Miles. He shoved it aside, and cleared his expression, even as the bile and disgust for himself rolled in his stomach and climbed his throat.

He lifted the other end of the chains, wrapping them around his throat. The icy metal dug into his skin painfully, and Juice sighed in relief, by some twisted happenings, knowing he was getting everything he deserved, and not at all.

He checked to see if the chains were secured. They were. He didn't want anything going wrong.

He contemplated actually jumping from the branch, but he didn't know what that would do to the wood, if it would hold. Besides, Juice thought, twisting his lips, that was an easy way out. Jump, and one broken neck and you're gone forever just like that. In Juice's eyes, he deserved to suffer.

So he slid forward on the branch easily, and off. He was falling, and then jerking suddenly, pulled back by the hard chains crushing his wind pipe. His body reacted of course, on pure instinct, struggling for air, his hands clawing at the chains and nails digging in his skin. He fought to breathe with everything he had, even as every fiber told himself he had to die.

He struggled for how long he didn't know, until his vision blurred at the edges, and the suffocating burning in his chest eased somewhat. He arms fell uselessly by his sides, and his last thought was of his family.

*.*

"Maybe I should go see where the lad is," Chibs said for the millionth time, standing from the bar stool, only to be pushed down once again by Tig and Bobby.

"Leave him alone, Chibs," Bobby said, taking a pull of his beer, hunched over the bar with his hand still on Chibs' shoulder.

"I'm tellin' ya, something don't feel right here. He shouldn't be alone." Chibs argued, pushing against their arms.

"You don't even know where he is," Tig replied easily.

Chibs ran his hands through his dark hair in frustration. "That is why," he said through his teeth, "I said I should go _look _for him."

Bobby shook his head at Tig, as if giving Chibs up for a lost cause. Tig heaved a sigh and with finality, handcuffed Chibs to the bar.

"What the bloody fuck do yeh think ye're doin'?" Chibs asked indignantly, his brogue thickening as he struggled against the restraints.

Bobby slid a beer towards the Scotsman. "Trying to make you relax."

"For once, stop thinking about your boy. He's probably fine. Get drunk," Tig said, leaning against the bar without remorse. "Find a pussy. Or a mouth. Or whatever orifice you prefer. But ease back already. He can take care of himself."

Chibs' shoulders hunched, pushing his beer away. "Somethin' just don' feel right."

Tig gestured over a woman who wore little and showed much, shoving her towards Chibs. "Make him forget how to think, will you?"

"Christ," Chibs turned away in disgust, glaring at Tig even as he said through gritted teeth. "Not interested. Find someone else."

The woman shrugged, flouncing off to go sit on Happy's lap. Tig looked closely at Chibs. "you're that worried?"

"Finally, the fucker gets it," Chibs exclaimed. "Now will you get these bastardly cuffs off of me?"

"No," Tig said, shaking his head. He continued on, ignoring Chibs' yell. "No. You don't have to get drunk, you don't have to fuck someone, but you aren't going to go out god knows where looking for him. The guy probably wants to be alone, otherwise he would be here. Leave it until morning. Then you can search the entirety of fucking Charming."

Tig walked off before Chibs could reply, and he laid his head on the bar. "I don't like this." He said to Bobby.

Bobby gave him a considering look. He leaned forward, murmuring. "Tell you what," he said. "You go take two hours down, sleep if you want, clear your head, and if you're still that worried, I'll go with you to find him."

Chibs turned his head, eyes narrowed. "This isn't some underhanded trick to get me to leave Juice alone, is it?"

Bobby shook his head. "The guy's been off lately. No one else has noticed, I don't think, but he may just need to be alone to deal with what he needs to deal with. I'll keep my word. Two hours down, and we'll go look for him."

"An hour."

Bobby raised an eyebrow. "And hour and a half, otherwise I'm not taking those cuffs off."

Chibs huffed out a breath. "Fine." Bobby leaned over, pulling an extra key from his pocket and taking the restraints off of him. Chibs sighed, standing and rubbing his wrists. "I'm going to sleep, and I'm setting an alarm. Even if you don't keep your word, I'm going."

Bobby nodded, "Fair enough." He watched the other man walk off; waving away a girl and a beer as he started down the hallway. Bobby shook his head, and took another pull of his drink. "Juice, you had better be okay," he whispered, feeling uncertainty coil in his stomach.

In the woods, a shadowed figure swung slowly, rotating and swaying, hanging from chains and a branch that never broke.

**A little AU for you here. I'm actually considering making this into a chapter story. Very angsty, as you can tell. I'll reiterate; I am not looking forward to the Juice aspects of season five. At all. **

**Prompts? Suggestions? Flames? Either way, reviews are welcome, as always. **


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: Any recognizable characters do not belong to me, nor does Sons of Anarchy. **

**OC WARNING AHEAD. NOT A ROMANTIC INTEREST, BUT THERE IS ONE PRESENT. **

**And I'm gonna say now, this one's a bit… weird? Just a tad. I'm tempted to edit further on it, but I don't know.**

**Ah! And, from the urging of xLila Rose, I have decided to create a spin off short chaptered story of the last chapter. The first chapter is up, but it's the same as the last chapter on here for those who've read it. I'll update the next chapter tomorrow for those interested. It's called 'On the Leaves', if you wanna check it out. **

"You don't need to be so quiet." The social worker said, turning on to Main Street.

She barely even glanced at the older woman and turned her attention fully to the window once again, staring at the little shops and people walking by.

The social worker sighed, once again giving up on getting her to talk. She frowned, glancing at her GPS, and then cast a side-long look at the girl in the passenger seat. "Now, I'll have to pull over and ask for directions," she started. "You can't try to run again."

The girl gritted her teeth and again spoke not a word. The social worker shook her head and pulled in front of one of the little shops. She turned in her seat to face the girl. "You don't have to talk. Not to me. But you do have to stay in this car. You have to get used to this. You can't run away from this anymore."

Again having no response, the woman cautiously opened her door and stepped out. The girl glanced at the lock on the door, waiting, and a moment after the woman stepped into the shop, the locks slid in to place. The girl sat back with a sneer. _What a lovely show of faith_, she thought, but stayed put.

The woman stepped out, looking suspicious, and then surprised when she saw the girl still sitting in the front. She quickly cleared her expression, but saw there was no point as the girl had noticed and raised a sarcastic eyebrow at her. She slid back into the seat and cleared her throat. "Thank you," she said quietly.

The look the girl shot her was clearly mocking, but the woman paid it no heed. "It's not far from here," she said instead, pulling out of the slot.

The girl felt resignation settle in her stomach and laid her forehead on the cool window as they drove further into the town that she was now expected to call "home".

The social worker frowned when she pulled in front of the building she was supposed to stop at, and the girl cast an uninterested glance at the shop labeled "Teller-Morrow's". "This can't be it," the social worker muttered, rifling through her bag and bringing out a piece of paper. Her frown deepened when she saw it was the correct address.

She saw two men in leather vests head out from the mechanic's shop, a man with graying hair and scars on each of his cheeks, and a man with a Mohawk and tattoos on either side of his head. She climbed from her car as they headed over.

"Can I help you with something?" The man with the Mohawk asked, hands in his front pockets.

She kept her face neutral. "I'm looking for Alex Trager?"

The man who spoke looked confused and glanced at the other man, who had raised an interested eyebrow. She looked down at the slip of paper in her hands. "Tig?" she tried again and the man with the tattoos looked surprised.

"So that's his name," he muttered, turning to the other man questioningly.

"Could you tell us what this is all about?" The other man spoke, an accent twisting through his voice.

She glanced at the girl in the front seat quickly, then away, but the other men seemed not to notice. "I'm sorry, but no. Do you know where he might be?"

The man with the accent glanced at the other man, who shrugged. "He's here," the man finally said, gesturing at the man with the Mohawk. "Go fetch him, would ya, Juicy?"

The other man nodded and took off to a building adjacent to the mechanic's shop. The other man turned back and held out a hand. "Chibs."

She shook his hand, nodding. "Danielle Pasca. Are you an associate of Mr. Trager's?"

Chibs looked amused. "You could say that."

He turned as the man he called "Juice" came back with the man she recognized as Alex Trager from her files. She just noticed the patching on the back of his leather vest that said "Sons of Anarchy California" and depicted a Grim Reaper.

He turned back and she saw on the chest of his vest it said "Men of Mayhem" and "Sgt. At Arms." She felt tentative upon seeing Trager wearing a vest along the lines of Chibs' and Juice's, beginning to understand why her boss wanted this handled so quickly. Everyone in Northern California knew these men.

"What's this about?" Trager asked, stepping up beside Chibs and barely sparing Danielle a glance.

She interjected, "Mr. Trager, I'm Danielle Pasca. If we could speak in private?"

Trager raised an eyebrow and shrugged, looking around. "Pretty private around here."

She glanced hesitantly at the other two men, but seeing that they weren't going anywhere, she continued. "You're a difficult man to find, Mr. Trager. I'm from Social Services."

The other man blinked, and then frowned. "Social Services? What for? My kids are of age."

"That's what I'd like to speak to you about. That's not exactly true."

"What the hell are you talking about, lady?"

Danielle restrained a sigh, wishing she could just get this over with and return home. She was tired from driving constantly with a moody teenager in the car, and she didn't want to deal with this. Technically, she wasn't even supposed to be here. There had been no hearing as of yet, but her boss wanted this kid with kin ASAP.

"Congratulations, it's a girl," she said dryly. She reached into the front seat and pulled out a file on everything known on the kid in the front seat, including her Birth Certificate. "You're named as her father. Law states that you have to live with her for twelve consecutive months. You'll get a monthly stipend for you and the girl."

Chibs frowned at her. "That's not how this works. Where's the court order? What about appeal dates?"

She couldn't restrain the sigh this time and held out her hands. "Listen, I'm just following orders. Either you take the kid or she goes straight into foster care after I drop her off at the next Social Services Office. But you're the only family she has left. You don't want her, fine. But that's for you to deal with. I have other cases."

Chibs began to look angry as Trager answered, looking thrown. "What? I don't have another kid. Where's her other family?"

It's all in there," she nodded to the file, wanting to get it and the kid off her hands as quickly as possible, and out of Charming even quicker.

Trager shook his head. "Nah, nah lady. You've got this messed up."

"Fine," she snapped, unsettled, and seeing another two men come out in the same vests. She reached out for the file, but Chibs held up a hand and said something in Trager's ear that made him look at the other man in surprise.

Chibs took the file from Trager, who looked overwhelmed. "Well, where is she then?"

Danielle nodded jerkily to the car. "There." The other men came up. A short-haired blonde man with facial hair and a short and fairly rotund long haired man.

"What's up?" The blonde asked, gazing at Danielle suspiciously and she swallowed. She saw "President" patched on to his leather.

Juice answered while Chibs went to the passenger side of the car, "Seems Tig here has got a kid on his hands."

Trager shook his head when the blonde shot him a stunned look. "No. I don't. She's wrong."

Chibs whistled and said, "'Might want to rethink that, Tigger," when the girl stepped out of the car.

It was much easier to see the similarities so close, Danielle saw. The girl had inherited much of her facial features from her father. The curly, dark hair, the bright blue eyes, and the high cheekbones. Currently, she also had the same stubborn tilt in her jaw when she gazed at everyone around her coolly.

Trager swallowed, brow furrowing as she smirked sarcastically, raising a mocking brow. The blonde man was looking back and forth between Trager and the girl, looking fascinated. "She looks more like you than Dawn and Fawn." He said consideringly.

Chibs shook his head at him, and Danielle stepped back, seeing the girl already had her backpack that held her only belongings with her. She reached for the door of her car, going unnoticed by everyone but the girl who narrowed her eyes at her, and glanced at the men in consideration, and back at Danielle.

Danielle had no doubt the girl could see the desperation to get out of there on her face. But she said nothing, and was in her car and pulling out before anyone could say a thing.

Glancing in her rearview mirror, she saw the group standing in the same place, with Chibs a bit of a distance away from the girl, and the men all crowded around Trager, as the girl stood with her bag slung over her shoulder, chin tilted in defiance.

Danielle shook her head, silently wishing her luck, and not feeling any shame in what she was doing whatsoever.

**Another AU. Don't know what's up with this. At all. But I wanted to write it, so don't hate me for the OC. At least she's not a romantic interest? I'm contemplating writing further on this. Maybe. What do you guys think? Anyone out there that'd read it?**

**You know the drill; prompts are welcome, flames are read and laughed at, reviews are fawned over and any suggestions are examined with careful consideration. **


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: Any recognizable characters do not belong to me, nor does Sons of Anarchy. **

Gemma scrounged through mounds of boxes, heaving a large sigh and wiping the cool sweat off her forehead. She stood for a moment, stretching the kinks in her back, groaning at the pull of sore muscles.

"Anything else, Mom?" Gemma turned to see Jax standing in the doorway of the storage shed. He was just coming into his frame, long, lean, and lanky, finally hitting a growth spurt and now one of the tallest twelve year old boys in his class.

She gestured to the box she was just rifling through, "How 'bout you take that one, baby?"

He nodded and walked forward to pick it up. She leaned over to push his hair off his forehead. "Your hair's getting long," she murmured. "You'll need a haircut soon."

Jax scrunched up his face but didn't pull away. "I don't want a haircut," he complained. "I like it long."

Gemma gave a half-smile. "We'll talk about this later," was all she said.

He started out, catching up to Harry who was helping his dad organize the boxes in Piney's truck. She stood there a moment, watching Jax. Just soaking in his laugh that trailed over, and the way he bopped around energetically.

She felt her chest ache, and she let out a deep breath. She turned away quickly, swallowing down the tears that filled her throat. It did get better. The loss. But at moments like this, the fact that her other child was gone crept up on her and held her around the throat.

"I think I'm gonna take the boys for ice cream. Put a reward on the table to keep them in line. Okay with you?"

She turned slightly at Piney's voice, and didn't reply until she was sure her voice wouldn't quaver. "Yeah," she said, pleased to notice her voice was only the smallest bit rough. "Go ahead, Piney. Thanks for helping out here."

He said nothing, and gazed at her steadily. He rested a large hand on her shoulder. "These damn holiday's," he said, understanding lacing his voice, almost too much for her to take.

She let out a small laugh, and choked it off when it came out strangled. "These damn holiday's," she said. "You go on; I'll put the rest in the back of my car."

She sat on a plastic tub watching as Piney ushered the boys in the truck, their still high pitched voices carrying over to her. She watched them pull out of the lot, and watched until she couldn't see the truck anymore.

Gemma laid her head back against the cool metal, pulling her winter coat around herself tightly. Her eyes moved slowly around the garage, filled with keepsakes, boxes of clothing, decorations and things she couldn't bring herself to throw away.

Like Tommy's things.

Unwillingly, her eyes found the far corner, separated from the rest and not touched in eight months. Without even realizing it, she had stood, and walked over to the corner, feeling herself pulled despite herself.

She ran a hand down the wooden headboard of Tommy's blue bed and let out a shaky breath. "What am I doing?" she asked softly, pulling her hand away. She clenched her eyes shut and shook herself, trying to rein in her turbulent emotions. "Shouldn't have come in here," she muttered.

She had been avoiding the garage for months, knowing what was in there. But she had promised Jax the decorations for Christmas, and Clay was busy at the shop, John was off doing only god knew what, and Piney couldn't carry it all himself. So Gemma had to come with and sort through the boxes.

She knew this was a bad idea.

Her hand fell away from the headboard, and found its way towards a cardboard box. She told herself to leave it alone, to turn around and get the rest of the decorations and get the hell out of there, but she couldn't resist and opened the box.

And knew the moment she did it had been a huge mistake.

Her breath came out in a sob as her eyes filled and she lifted the worn, stuffed rabbit on top. "Oh, Babs," she whispered, clenching the rabbit to her chest.

She turned away, already overwhelmed, not even bothering to replace the lid, doubling over as she shook with grief, shaking and holding her baby's rabbit as close to her as possible. She caught her breath after several long moments, and held Babs close, grabbing the other boxes without sorting through them as she fought to get out of the garage.

She shoved the Christmas decorations in the front seat, blinking back tears, climbing in to her car and placing Babs on her lap as she had done with Tommy so many times.

"Oh, God," she said, swallowing, rocking back and forth as she rushed out of the lot with only one place on her mind.

She got there in record time, and knew she was going way too fast, vaguely thinking that she may get in an accident on the slick roads, but found herself not bothering to care. All she knew was that she had to get to her baby.

The frantic desperation in her eased somewhat as she pulled into the quiet cemetery, winding her way around until she reached the children's section of the lot. She parked and sat in the car for a long time, zoning out on nothing.

Finally, she gripped Babs and made her way out of the car and into the crisp winter air. She walked over to the tombstone she knew by heart, side by side with all the others that had flowers and toys.

She sunk down, sitting in the wet grass, and barely even noticing the wet seeping through her jeans. Her attention was fixed firmly on the stone in front of her.

_Thomas Jonathon Teller_

_January 8, 1984 – April 4, 1990_

_Our Prince. _

She ran her fingertip over the engravings. "Hi, baby," she said softly, laying her hand fully on the rock.

She said nothing for minutes, simply sitting there. "It's almost Christmas," she said at last, voice shaking, whether it was from cold or loss, she didn't know. "But you probably know that."

She let out a shaky breath. "I'm taking care of Chaney. Your birdy misses you." She swallowed. "He misses you a lot."

She trailed off, and played with the rabbit in her lap. "I found Babs. He was in your boxes. I think he misses you too," she whispered, fingering one of the floppy ears. "He probably gets scared during thunder storms without you there to protect him. I'll take care of him, honey," she promised. "I'll take care of him."

She could feel her control begin to slip away, and she shook her head quickly. "I love you. I love you. I love you, Tommy." She didn't know what else to say.

She pressed her face into Babs' fur, trying to pick up any trace of Tommy's scent, but found none but dust. She laid her cheek on Babs' head for a long moment; longing and wishing with everything she was that it was her baby in her arms instead.

She ran her hand over the tombstone. "Merry Christmas, honey." She leaned forward and pressed her lips tightly to the cold rock.

She made her way slowly to the car. Her feet felt heavy.

She drove home as if she was on auto-pilot. She barely even noticed, and made her way out of her car, slumping up the walkway and curling her cold fingers around the equally cold doorknob.

The boys and Piney were in the dining room. She wasn't surprised to see them. She was, however, surprised to see Tig and Clay talking in the kitchen when she stepped through the back door.

She blinked, not actually surprised, but still given pause. Both men were hurrying towards her, pulling her inside.

"Fucking Christ, Gem, you're freezing," Tig said, frowning and pulling her over to the kitchen sink. Gemma vaguely noticed Piney leading the boys into the front room.

She yelped as her hands were placed under the tap, and began to burn at the scalding water on them. Tig held her wrists firmly, keeping them there even as she struggled. "Gem, calm down. It's not that hot. It's barely even warm. Your hands are turning blue, and this is quicker. Gem, calm down."

She stopped struggling as the feeling she didn't even know she had lost returned to her fingers. She sighed as the warmth spread, and she just realized how cold she was. Her teeth began to chatter. She leaned in to Tig, but suddenly realizing her hands weren't holding anything, she jerked her head around. "Wait, wait, where's—"

She cut off as she caught sight of Clay, who was standing off to the side. He was holding Babs and watching Gemma closely. She felt her throat close up, and shook her head, unable to talk about it. He watched her for a moment longer, and then nodded, placing Babs gently on the counter, and making his way into the hallway to the linens cupboard.

"He was freaking out," Tig muttered, still holding Gemma's hands under the water. "You've been gone for hours. You weren't picking up your phone. No one knew where you were. He was worried."

Gemma nodded, resting her head against Tig's shoulder tiredly. A moment later, her hands were pulled from the water and the tap was turned off. She felt a warm blanket curl around her shoulders and was led into the living room, where Harry and Jax were putting ornaments on the tree. Clay led Gemma to the couch, and made her sit down, the blanket curled around her tightly.

She laid her head on the arm of the couch, staring at the lights. Clay stepped into her view, holding Babs out wordlessly, and she took the rabbit, holding him in her lap. Clay sat next to her on the couch, wrapping an arm around her shoulder, letting her lean against him.

Jax looked up from the tree and caught sight of Babs. He stared for a long moment, then walked over and petted the rabbit. He pulled his hand away and kissed Gemma on the forehead. He turned back around to finish decorating without another word.

**I can't imagine losing a child. Ever. **

**You know the drill. Reviews?**

**Huge thanks to Dahlia Rose-Marie, CarelessWhisper89 and xLila Rose for the reviews. **


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: Any recognizable characters do not belong to me, nor does Sons of Anarchy. **

"I can't believe I'm doing this," Tara laughed, lying on her stomach and holding Jax's hand.

He grinned, lifting her hand and giving the back of it a loud smacking kiss. "Believe it, doll. You're mine. Might as well prove it."

"Barbarian," she shot back, eyes twinkling.

"Of course," he sing-songed, nodding to the tattoo artist that they were ready.

She buried her head in her free arm. "Oh man, oh man, Jax. I can't believe I'm doing this. I can't believe I let you talk me into this."

"Kinda ironic," Jax remarked, watching as the man readied the gun over Tara's pale back. "A future doctor who's afraid of needles."

"Shut up Jackson."

He felt her tense suddenly as she felt the tip, and he smoothed her hair back from where it was spilling over her cheek. "Hey, chill, okay? It's not that bad, and it'll be over before you know it."

"King of assurances," she stated dryly, gripping his hand tightly.

"Always," he saw the first line of ink slowly appear on her back, and he leaned forward to whisper in her ear. "You're mine, Knowles."

She smiled back, the lines of tension around her eyes fading somewhat. "Always," she whispered back.

**Shortest drabble yet. Yay. **

**Thanks for the reviews, and prompts are welcomed and acknowledged. **


	10. Chapter 10

**I do not own Sons of Anarchy, nor do I own any recognizable characters. **

**Gah, this drabble… I had almost two thousand words typed out when my computer decided to freeze. Normally, this wouldn't be a problem considering Auto Save and I had become best buds, but when I had re-opened Word, my Auto Save decided not to save since it was a new document, not a pre-existing one. Enter frustration. **

**So this may not be exactly up to par, but if you would like to blame anything, blame Microsoft Word and the fact that Auto Save does not in fact save automatically. **

"Shit. Shit, c'mon, where the fuck is it?" She mumbled around her cigarette, pulling open the drawers and jamming her hands in, searching. She knew it was here somewhere. Where the fuck did it go?

She found nothing in the bedside drawer and let out a short scream of frustration as she turned toward the bathroom desperately. She pulled everything out of the drawers tossing objects haphazardly, not caring where it landed as her breath grew ragged and her pounding head throbbed with insistence.

"Fuck," she jerked the cigarette from her mouth with shaking hands and dropped it carelessly in the sink. She opened the medicine cabinet pulling things out and pushing back all the vitamins that she could care less about. "Oh, oh thank god. Oh thank you god," she whimpered, pulling out the needle from the back of the cabinet. She tried to tear the wrapping off from around it without breaking the only fucking needle she had, but her hands shook too badly.

Her hands always shook.

"Oh, come on _please." _She said, wiping the sweat from her forehead in irritation. She almost wept when she finally tore it open and she slid down onto the cluttered and grimy bathroom floor. She searched the pockets of her robe, patting and tearing until she pulled the syringe bottle out, already loaded. The needle was placed in it in a moment, and she pinched her bare arms, slapping and trying to pull up a vein.

Her breathing came out ragged when she couldn't find one, and she let out a high pitched whine as she checked the crook of her arm. "Fuck, fuck, are you fucking kidding me?" she groaned. She turned her still shaking and clammy hands over, clenching her fingers into fists and let out a sigh that came out sound more like a sob when she finally found a vein.

The needle slid in cleanly as she shot up, and she ignored the first sting of pain and slumped against the bathroom cabinets.

She sat for a moment and finally registered the relief, then the automatic filthy and soiled sensation that settled over her skin directly after.

She removed the needle quickly, tossing at away with a despairing cry and rubbed the backs of her hands frantically, not sure if she was trying to clean the drug from her body or trying to keep it in.

"Oh, oh no. No, please," she gripped greasy strands of her hair in her hands and tugged hard. She pushed her legs out as she sobbed, the cold stones pushing against her bare legs not even registering. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to." She cradled her round stomach with her arms and rocked back and forth, rubbing frantically. "I didn't mean to baby, Mommy didn't mean to, I'm sorry honey."

She gradually calmed down, not knowing or caring if it was from the poison in her veins making her feel as if she had regained an inkling of her sanity or not. Her arms fell by her sides as she sat there staring at the wall, her breathing slow. She let out a pained groan as she stood slowly, pulling herself up on her numb legs and using the counter for help.

She didn't even bother looking in the mirror, already knowing what reflection would look back at her. Her face was always waxen and taut, and her eyes bloodshot and darkly rimmed. It was an image as constant as her shaking hands.

She made her way out of the bathroom slowly, kicking aside trash and random objects lying around until she made her way to her bed. She sat on the corner heavily, and ran a hand across her swollen abdomen.

Absently, she noticed the hand was pale except where the veins stood out, almost purple in their intensity.

She frowned as she rubbed her stomach. She pulled the hand back quickly as her stomach moved, a hand or foot rippling across the skin through her ratty t-shirt. She felt her face contort and her breathing speed up again. Angrily, she seized the lamp on the bedside table and threw it against the wall. The glass light broke, and shattered ruins spilled onto the carpet. She turned desperately for something else to break, to crush, to destroy.

She knocked over furniture, sobbing and letting out short screams. She tore the dirty sheets off of the bed. She pulled her own hair and threw things at her own reflection looking back at her from the full length mirror on the wall.

"This is all your fault," she screamed at her own stomach as it rippled again. She needed to break, needed to break something, needed to break _something. _

She threw herself down against the edge of the bed and began hitting her stomach with both hands. "I hate you, I hate you, I hate you," she said through her ragged breathing. "This is all your fault, all your fault, _I hate you_."

She let her hands fall from her stomach and continue to pull at her own hair, nails digging in the scalp until she drew blood and sobbed from the overwhelming intensity of everything that she couldn't handle and all the things she felt but didn't want to.

She keened loudly, eyes clenched shut and curled on to her side on the floor, tears falling wetly and hot on to her already scorched cheeks. She curled her knees as close to her as she could, until they came into contact with her bruised stomach and she whimpered again. She pressed her cheek into the dirty carpet, turning her face into it and letting her hair fall over her face as she cried for herself and for the unborn child she never wanted that she loved and hated at the same time.

"I'm sorry baby," she repeated over and over, rubbing her numb hands over her stomach. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Mommy didn't mean to, baby, I'm so sorry…"

**When I wrote this, I imagined Wendy. But since it was never specified, let your mind go wild. Maybe it was Gemma before she had Jax; a baby that she'd had a miscarriage with after becoming fond of heroin. Could be a reason the Sons are so against the drug runs. Or maybe Tara in an alternate universe, who had run away from Charming and her family, unable to take being Queen anymore and turned to drugs to deal with her pain after learning she had become impregnated with Jax's child. Unable to handle another abortion and not able to kill the last thing of Jax she had left, she kept the baby. **

**Hmm… Just ignore these long author's notes. Or review and tell me how irritating my psychobabble is; either way, it's no skin off my nose. **

**Ah, and On the Leaves is most likely going to witness a title change in the near future. Just a heads up for those who may be reading it. Chapter three should be updated within the next day or so. **


	11. Chapter 11

**I do not own Sons of Anarchy. **

**This one was a bitch to write. Just saying. **

**Want a song or two to go with this? Listen to In the Mourning by Paramore and Shadow of the Day by Linkin Park. (Songs I wrote this to)**

Chibs was silent. Not out of respect, more as if he had nothing left to say.

He'd thought he'd said all he'd needed to. All he could. Now he was left with the regret of not saying more when he'd had the chance.

People walked past. Men in kuttes, women in black; all grieving. A few looks were cast his way, but he paid them no heed. They were nothing to him just as he was nothing to them; only a source of interest and vague curiosity.

Chibs had known. He'd known something and yet had done nothing. Was he meant to feel remorse? Guilt? Anger? Pain?

Grief?

But no. He felt nothing. Actually, he was curiously numb. Trapped in his own bubble where nothing affected him. At the moment he felt like a bystander, looking through glass, looking in from the outside at the pain reflected around him.

It would've interested him had he not lost interest.

It was set aside in a different room, like with Half-Sac. His brothers lined the entrance. They stood aside, saying nothing. They'd already paid their respects, stood above and whispered their sorrows to a man who had never heard them and was now hearing them too late.

He felt their eyes on him, of course. Worry and concern latched to him. They worried that he was feeling too much to feel at all.

Which could've been the case. But he lost the ability to care.

He stepped into the room, eyes laid upon the casket on the dais. He walked forward slowly, feeling disconnected. The kutte was laid on the casket, the patch of the reaper and Sons of Anarchy California staring up at those who gazed upon it.

Maybe it was disbelief that kept him from comprehending that there was a body in there. Maybe it was the fact that he didn't want to know. Either way, it didn't bother him. It was another body. Just another body.

Wasn't it always a body?

His eyes rose slowly to the picture depicted above the casket, grinning with amusement and joy. Chibs felt the glass separating him from everyone else crack slightly, and he pushed it away, shaking his head once and looking away from the picture, frowning.

He rested his hand on the casket, on the reaper. He felt nothing.

When was the last time he had felt something?

Chibs was wearing his kutte, of course. All of the Sons were. It was always that way.

He slid it off his shoulders without a second thought, and heard the murmuring behind him. He folded it and put it on the casket next to the other, both reapers looking up. He fingered the others kutte one last time, and stealing one more glance at the picture, made his way out of the room.

They tried to stop him. Tried to pull him aside and ask what he was doing. He ignored them and said nothing. He heard the orders to Tig to follow him, of course. It didn't bother him. Not at all, not really.

Why should it?

He made his way out of the building, past the grieving and the chattering. His eyes were drawn to every face though. They didn't know him. Who were they to be here and pay their respects when they knew nothing of who he was?

The anger rose, then fell quickly into nothing once more. He didn't know which he preferred. He didn't care.

"Chibs." He turned his head slightly at Tig's voice next to his ear. He felt his hand grip his upper arm but didn't move from his perch, staring at everyone. "What are you doing?"

Chibs turned to look at him, not really seeing anything at all. "I'm going home."

Gently, he removed Tig's hand from his arm and made his way to the bike. It wasn't Chibs' bike. No. Chibs' had crashed his in an accident when he had still felt; when the grief was fresh and the all-consuming pain was raw. Chibs' bike was gone; not that it mattered. Nothing really did anymore.

He was vaguely aware of Tig following behind him on his own bike. He didn't care. The cool air rushed through his hair, flying free without a helmet. It was a bit chilly without his kutte, but the difference wasn't vastly noticeable.

Finally, he made it to his destination. He cut the bike, and Tig pulled up beside him as Chibs stared at the building. Tig sat beside him for a long moment, both silent. "Why do you keep doing this?" Tig asked quietly.

Chibs needed to take a moment to breathe through the tightness in his chest. The sorrow settled in, heavier than anything he'd felt before, but more numbing than the indifference he had felt. It rested in his bones and clogged his airways, suffocating him and leaving him breathless.

"It's all I have left," he whispered. He blinked, eyes heavy as they stung. He felt languid and weighty, as if he were moving through water.

"Chibs. C'mon man, that's not true. You have us; you have the club."

"And when you're all gone too?" He asked, without even wanting an answer.

"We lost him too." Tig said at length.

Chibs shook his head slowly, still looking at the building. "No," he said. "No, you didn't. You lost a member. You lost a brother. You didn't lose _him._" Without another word, he climbed off of the bike and walked toward the staircase, leaving Tig behind him.

He had the keys. He'd had the keys for as long as he could remember. These doors were always opened to him. He used the keys now to step into the apartment, the place that had become a refuge to him. The door shut behind him as he gazed around the small living room, things exactly in the place they had been left in.

He knew it couldn't be healthy. But what else was there?

He pulled himself to the bedroom, feet heavier with every step he took. Everything in here was the same but not at all.

He knew this room better than he knew his own, especially within the last few weeks. He'd spent countless hours on and in that bed, in this room. He walked over and sat heavily on the edge, turning his head to the phone that had been left there purposely. Chibs hadn't been able to bring himself to unlock it and view the contents. Now, feeling as if there was nothing left to lose, he picked it up and slid his thumb across the screen.

_45 missed calls_

_30 new voicemail_

_12 unread messages _

Chibs gazed at the screen indifferently, knowing every last one of those were from him. Each more panicked than the last. Each more desperate than the last. Each more hopeless than the last.

He'd known. He'd known, hadn't he? And yet Chibs had done nothing. He'd done nothing.

And now the other man was dead. Because of him. Because Chibs didn't do more. Because Chibs didn't save him. He didn't help him.

So didn't that mean that Chibs had killed him?

The thought was too much and he rolled onto the bed, burying his face in the pillow, searching for a scent that wasn't there and wouldn't be there ever again. It had faded away within the first few days.

Chibs rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling as he had done so many times after waking the other man from a nightmare, holding him close and trying to chase away all the fears that had plagued him.

Obviously, Chibs had failed at that too.

"I'm sorry," He whispered, staring at the ceiling and wishing he were dead too. His eyes filled at the same time his throat did with choked up grief and sobs. "I'm so sorry, Juice. I'm so sorry."

**Yeah. I have a feeling I'm going to be getting a few 'I hate you's for this one. **

**I'm thinking of writing another chapter in here that is Chibs' voice mails and messages sent to Juice. Thoughts?**


	12. Chapter 12

**I do not own Sons of Anarchy or any of the characters therein. **

**WARNING: SLASH AND (SOFT) SMUT. Meaning male/male sexual relations. Ye have been warned. **

Juice really should be worried that another man's tongue was in his mouth. He really, really should.

But fuck it, it kind of felt too good for him to care.

It was nothing like kissing a woman, yet it was. Kissing was kissing, but this was rougher, harder than he'd kissed a woman, more teeth and tongue. He didn't have to worry about being gentle; he got as good as he gave.

And fuck, he gave good. But really, he should be freaking out. Right about now. Or now. Maybe.

But his head was just a little bit clouded from alcohol and the fact that _fuck, _this felt really, really good. And he was surprised at himself a bit when he found a thrill shooting up his spine as he was pushed against the door to one of the rooms in the clubhouse. He didn't think he'd enjoy that—actually having someone force him against something and pin his wrists by his side as he craned his neck to lick at every inch of the other guy's mouth he could.

He didn't think he'd like it, but shit wow.

His mind more or less short circuited when he felt the other man grind his crotch against Juice's. Juice tore his mouth away from the other man's, gasping and his back arching. The other man buried his face in Juice's neck, and his hair rubbed against Juice's face as he rocked against Juice.

"Shit, shit, oh god, fuck, Chibs—" he gasped, cutting off with a strangled groan. He pulled his wrists against Chibs' grip wanting to touch, needing to touch.

Chibs let go and Juice tangled his hands in Chibs' short hair, tugging his head up so he could reach his mouth, biting and licking his way in. They both stumbled as Juice pushed Chibs back, Chibs' knees buckling as they hit the edge of the bed and sending them both tumbling on to it.

Juice climbed up Chibs as quickly as he could, straddling the other man's waist, and grinding down as he moaned. He felt Chibs' hand find his way into the back pocket of his jeans, squeezing and making Juice buck down harder.

"Fuck, yehs. C'mon Juiceh, shet." Chibs groaned into his mouth.

Juice nodded quickly, pulling his t-shirt off quickly—they'd already both lost their kuttes and jackets after they'd stumbled through the door—and throwing it as he tried to remove Chibs'. Juice was a bit distracted though, since Chibs wasn't really helping at all, instead deciding he'd rather tongue every bit of Juice's chest and abdomen instead of getting naked.

Juice was a bit startled at how much he really, _really _wanted to get Chibs naked.

He pulled at Chibs' shirt desperately to no avail since Chibs wouldn't budge. Juice gave up quickly, groaning and rutting against Chibs as much as he could when the other man bit Juice's shoulder. Juice splayed his hands on the other man's back, tilting his head as Chibs moved up to his neck, giving him more room.

Shit, fuck it, Juice really shouldn't be enjoying this as much as he was but oh _god. _

"More," Juice moaned, pulling at Chibs' hair insistently and pushing him back onto the bed.

Finally he got Chibs' shirt off, but had no time to enjoy the view—and he really, really should be concerned about how much he enjoyed it—when Chibs' hands tightened on Juice's hips, and suddenly Juice found himself blinking up at the other man, who grinned down at him from where he'd flipped them over.

Juice frowned, but rolled his eyes and turned his attention to Chibs' neck, the crook where his neck met the shoulder—and judging by the sounds coming from Chibs' mouth, he seemed to really enjoy that—and especially the dip in his collarbone. Juice really liked that spot.

What Juice liked even more though was when Chibs groaned and fumbled with the button on Juice's jeans. And he _really _liked when the other man slid his hand past his boxers to wrap around his dick. Chibs moaned, so Juice guessed he must've liked it too.

Juice gasped, squirming as Chibs moved his hand up and down, pushing his hips into Chibs' hand but no, fuck, this wasn't right. It felt so, so good, but no he needed more, shit Chibs _come on_.

He told Chibs as much and the other man removed his hand—to Juice's displeasure, but he asked for it—to pull down Juice's jeans and boxers, leaving him completely naked underneath a half-naked Chibs, and Juice once again found this situation a bit too enjoyable.

Chibs seemed to enjoy it just as much, since he kind of forget he was supposed to be getting naked too, because he ran his hands up Juice's thighs, fingers digging in to the skin, and around to Juice's ass, pulling him closer as he ground down into Juice's very hard dick with his own denim clothed one.

Juice felt his toes actually fucking curl—and shit why had they not done this sooner?—as he fought to breathe, rocking up into Chibs as he rocked down.

"Hey, hey, c'mon, naked remember?" Juice asked breathlessly, trying to get Chibs to get naked because he really, really wanted Chibs to be naked soon, and if he wasn't then Juice was going to come and that was not good.

Chibs wasn't listening very well though, still pushing his crotch against Juice's and panting into Juice's neck, his brogue thick and just as breathless as Juice and _fuck _if that didn't drive Juice up the wall just a little bit. So Juice took matters into his own hands even though he was a bit distracted and Chibs was making it really fucking hard to concentrate when he did that with his hips. He tried to unbutton Chibs' jeans, letting out a small exhalation of victory into Chibs' mouth when he achieved his goal.

Juice forgot that he was supposed to be getting Chibs naked for a moment and found himself curious and reached in to curl his fingers around Chibs, which made the other man gasp, then let out a choked groan.

Even though Juice was so _fucking _close to coming his brains out, he felt a thrill at Chibs' reaction and pumped the other man slowly with one hand, reaching out to grip Chibs' hips with the other hand.

"Shet, shet, shet," Chibs repeated, breath hot in Juice's ear, and as enjoyable as it was for the both of them—and another thing Juice should be worried about, he really shouldn't like jacking off another guy so much—Juice decided he really needed to return to his first goal in getting both of them naked as quickly as possible.

So he removed his hand, ignoring Chibs' whine—holy shit, holy shit, he actually made the guy whine, and that was way hotter than it should've been—and tried to pull down his jeans and boxers quickly, because if Chibs' bare chest felt this fucking amazing then how good would the rest feel?

Juice succeeded and Chibs was finally naked and Juice didn't even get a chance to peek at Chibs' dick before Chibs was once again pushing him into the bed and grinding down and holy _fuck yes _that felt really, really damn good.

"Oh, oh fuck. Oh god, yes," he moaned and was pretty much feeling too good to feel embarrassed. He arched his back and pushed back quickly and hard, leaving them both panting and gasping and slick with sweat and Juice was way too close.

Juice lifted his legs to wrap around Chibs and flipped them back over. Chibs made a sound of complaint that he quickly swallowed by covering his mouth with his and sliding his tongue past his lips and between his teeth even as he straddled him again and ground down, rolling his hips in a way he didn't even realize he could.

Chibs' hips jerked up to meet his and Juice felt his head fall back as he let out a groan, which only became louder when Chibs started sucking on his neck, biting softly.

Juice's hips rolled faster as he tried to grind down harder, putting a hand on Chibs' hip and another on the bed to balance himself, and Chibs' hips moved frantically, both of them losing their rhythm somewhat at the feel of their dicks pushing together and Juice really, really was going to come really soon.

Juice felt his stomach and balls tighten and his vision blur as he gasped, back arching as he came for what seemed like forever, his heart beating ridiculously fast. He opened his eyes as he was flipped back over, back once again hitting the bed as Chibs continued to grind against him, groaning and hair falling in his face.

Juice, still feeling languid, reached up to slide his mouth along Chibs' exposed neck, wrapping his arms around his back and sliding his hands down to cup the other man's surprisingly firm ass. Chibs groaned and moved faster, hips moving jerkily as he angled his head so his mouth would slide across Juice's. Juice ran his tongue along the back of his teeth, and pulling back slightly, pulled his lip in between his teeth as he used the hands on Chibs' ass for leverage to pull him tighter against him.

Chibs' moaned, lowering his head to the crook of Juice's neck as he shook, and Juice felt his come on his stomach mixing with Juice's own and didn't find it nearly as disgusting as he should have. He held Chibs there until he stopped shaking and his breathing steadied somewhat.

After a moment, Chibs rolled off of him—even though Juice kind of liked his weight settled on top of him like that—and they both laid on their backs, sideways on the bed and staring at the ceiling as they tried to catch their breath.

Now that Juice's mind wasn't distracted with the need to come and was able to think a bit more clearly than before, he began to freak out a bit. Just a little.

Considering he was laying naked next to a guy—who was naked—who he had known for years—who was a _guy—_who he had just gotten off with—whilst naked—who was almost ten years older than him—_who was a guy _and it was_ Chibs_—and the fact that he was a little too comfortable with all of that, maybe gave him the right to freak out slightly.

"Juice," Juice looked over, startled at the sound of his name. Chibs was frowning at him, looking both amused and exasperated. "Quit you're worrying."

Juice scowled. "I was not—"

"Yes you were," Chibs replied with certainty. Chibs sat up, leaving Juice to stare at his naked back and feeling uncertain. Chibs pulled back the blankets on the bed, sliding under them and scooting to the other side of the bed. He raised an eyebrow. "You coming up here or am I gonna have to drag you?"

Juice frowned through the lightness that accompanied those words and climbed up, grumbling. "Bossy," he said, sliding under the sheets. He felt Chibs wrap an arm around his shoulders, urging him forward until they both lay on their sides facing each other with Juice's face buried in Chibs' neck.

"You know," Chibs said after a long moment, voice slurring slightly with sleep. "This really should be weirder than it is."

Juice gave a tired laugh, throwing a leg over Chibs' and his eyes sliding closed. "I know exactly what you mean."

**So uhm… If this was completely awkward to read, please tell me. This was pretty much the first time I had ever written anything sexual, and my very first time writing smut (even as soft-core as it is).**

**So yes. Hypothetically, I've popped my fanfiction cherry. Gah. **


	13. Chapter 13

**I do not own Sons of Anarchy or any recognizable characters. **

**So this one's a little… weird. **

**And jeez, this thing is seriously beginning to turn into the Chibs and Juice show. **

"What the fuck are you doing?" Chibs hissed, catching up to Juice and grabbing him around the upper arm.

Juice gave him a confused smile that didn't reach his tired, empty eyes whatsoever. "Huh? What's up, man?"

"You know what I'm talkin' about," Chibs said, shaking him slightly, his brogue thickening with irritation and worry. "Are you tryin' to get yourself killed? Is that what you're doin'?"

Juice's eyes flashed suddenly with anger, and he jerked his arm back. Chibs let him, mostly out of surprise, and Juice sneered, turning away. "Why don't you fuck off?"

Chibs felt his own anger rise and he stalked forward, pulling him around and pushing him against the hallway wall. He held him up by fisting his hands in his kutte. "Don' you fuckin' dare, Juicy. You're not doin' this, understand? Ain't gonna happen."

"What the fuck are you talking about now?"

"This!" Chibs slammed him against the wall, frustration and fear rushing through his veins. "What you're doin'. You tried to _kill _yourself. Then that shet with the mine field, and now this? What the fuck, Juice?"

Juice's eyes darkened and his lip curled, looking so unlike Chibs' Juicy that Chibs had to shake his head. "You don't understand anything," he said evenly. "Leave me alone, Chibs."

Chibs looked at him in disbelief, not showing the pang of hurt in his gut at those words. "Bloody fucking hell I will. I'm not gonna let you do his, Juice, you need help."

"I don't _need _anything," Juice snarled, pushing back suddenly and making Chibs stumble. "I don't need help, I don't need Jax breathing down my neck constantly, and I really fucking don't need you."

Chibs felt something off, but he couldn't place it. He ignored it and laughed without amusement. "Really? So whad'ya gonna do now? Find another tree, another chain? Only maybe this time the branch won't break. Is that what you want?"

Juice said nothing, stepped back and just looked at Chibs, his eyes empty. He smiled and walked away from Chibs, leaving him there and wondering what the hell happened and how Chibs could have fucked up so badly.

He shook his head quickly and thought _fuck this_, rushing after him, out of the club and into the lot, seeing Juice already climbing on his bike. "Juice," he yelled, but Juice ignored him, starting his bike and leaving the lot. Chibs swore, feeling something settle heavily in his bones, and hurried to his own bike, feeling desperation prickle at his movements.

He was going too fast, he knew, speeding quickly and trying to catch up with Juice, trying to reach him and just convince him that he wasn't thinking straight.

Chibs saw him, speeding even more quickly than Chibs, and not heeding any of the stop signs or red lights, to Chibs' alarm.

Chibs saw Juice crane his head around to look right at Chibs, and for some reason it stuck with Chibs that Juice wasn't wearing his helmet. Juice shook his head and mouthed, _I told you_.

Before Chibs could understand what was happening, Juice sped through a red light, and metal crunched on metal as tires squealed and Juice was crushed.

Chibs didn't know if Juice had even seen the truck coming.

*.*

Chibs sat up in bed, covered in sweat and shaking, gasping as he tried to get out of bed. He looked for his phone desperately, still not even fully awake, and dialing the number he knew by heart.

His anxiety grew with every ring that wasn't picked up. He ended the call quickly, tossing it on to his bed as he stood, throwing on the first pair of jeans and t-shirt he found, fingers shaking and needing to _know _needing to assure himself that no, no it didn't happen, Juice was okay.

He threw on his kutte quickly, and headed straight for his bike, leaving his apartment door unlocked in his haste to get out of there.

The drive to Teller-Morrow's did nothing to ease his desperation. The time seemed to drag on and he couldn't seem to get there quickly enough.

He pulled into the lot, and he saw Juice's bike lined up next to the others, looking as pristine as it had the day before but it wasn't enough, no it wasn't enough.

He walked into the clubhouse, and saw through the glass, Jax and Clay arguing about something else in the chapel. Bobby nodded at him in greeting as he headed down the hallway, yelling something to Chuckie in the kitchen.

Chibs' eyes landed on the couch where Juice was propped up with his laptop as he had been so many other times before. He was still too thin, still stressed, and Chibs could stills see the bruising around his neck from the chains but he was alive.

Chibs let out a shallow breath, heart still thudding, but the blood in his veins slowing down somewhat. Juice noticed Chibs and looked up with a small, tired smile. He frowned directly afterwards, looking worried as Chibs just stood there.

"Chibs?" he asked, setting aside his laptop and standing slowly. "You okay?"

Chibs shook his head and walked forward, pulling Juice close to him in a tight hug, one hand cupping the back of Juice's head. Juice said nothing, though Chibs knew he must've been a little confused. He just hugged Chibs back.

Chibs cleared his throat, nodding once as he stepped back slightly, but kept his arms around Juice, leaning back enough to look Juice in the eyes and make sure they looked nothing like they had in his dream. They didn't.

"Alright, laddie?" Chibs asked, eyebrow raised even as he felt the concerned frown pull at his brow.

Juice nodded, shoulders relaxing, but still looking confused. "Yeah. I'm fine. Chibs, are you sure you're okay, man?"

Chibs let out a long breath, and nodded again, smiling. "Yeah," he said, keeping an arm around his shoulders as he led them out of the clubhouse. "Fine. Let's go grab something to eat, yeah? We'll take the truck," he said, nodding once firmly. He narrowed his eyes at Juice who, to Chibs' relief, was beginning to look amused. "And I'm driving."

**Like I said, weird, yeah? Anyway, suggestions and prompts are welcomed with open arms and readied fingertips to type. **

**I actually think I won't be updating daily anymore, more like every other day. So the next update should be on Monday, then Wednesday, etc…**

**Happy New Year's Eve everybody!**


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